Page 25 of Stalk

Cleo leans back again in her chair with a mischievous look on her face. “So. What did he look like? Was he hot?”

I burst out into much needed laughter, then give her the details. When I’m done, her eyes are wide and she’s grinning. “You better see him again,” she whispers while wiggling her eyebrows.

I roll my eyes, but my heart swells with contentment. I don’t know what I’d do without Cleo in my life.

CHAPTER 11

Mattia

Iwake up the morning after killing Helena harder than a fucking rock. A light layer of sweat coats my body as my dominant hand lunges under the covers and down to the bulge of my aching cock which rubs uncomfortably against the sheets. I’m still caught in between dreamland and reality. I don’t know what I was dreaming about to make me so hot and bothered. I throw the duvet and sheets back and moan out into my empty hotel room as soon as I start stroking.

My brain wakes up a little more once I’m working my length. It feels so fucking good, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I got off. All my worries of meeting Ren last night and the double assignment come to the surface, so I pump myself harder. I don’t want to think about allthat.God damn it, I just want tocome.

I think about Rachel, the hotel manager, and our date tonight. I picture her plump, sultry lips wrapping around my cockhead and envision her taking all of me into her pretty mouth.

My dick softens and I get frustrated. “Fucking shit!”

It’s not the first time this has happened. I’m starting to think I need to see my doctor for erectile dysfunction, but I don’t wantto admit that I’m having this problem, either. Especially when I’m so young. My dick grows even softer, and I start to wish I was still dreaming.

I force myself to relax. To take in a deep breath.

For some reason, Ren pops into my mind. His lean body and jet black hair and piercing eyes. My cock hardens instantly in my hand. I don’t want to think about Ren, but there he is. I haven’t gotten off in so long, I don’t stop to think aboutwhy.I push all those thoughts away. I can think about them after I reach my orgasm.

Not now.

I don’t force myself to think of someone else, even though I know I should. Porn has never done much for me, otherwise I’d try and watch it. Instead, I let my mind wander. Before I know it, Ren has replaced Rachel in my fantasy.

What the…

In my mind, Ren sucks me off. He grips onto my hips and lets me roughly fuck his face. His pretty, somewhat feminine face. He looks up at me through lashes that match his hair, his eyes smiling at how hard I am in his mouth.

My balls draw up, and my cock is painfully rigid as I stroke and stroke myself as fast as I can.

Ren hollows out his cheeks and a warm red flush creeps into his high cheekbones.

My cockhead weeps, spurting out a few drops of milky pre-cum. I fuck my hand, breathless, chasing a high that I’ve missed for far longer than I care to admit.

My fantasy has taken over my mind at this point, and I’m gasping for air.

Ren grips my ass as he pulls my cock away from his mouth. He grins up at me with wet, swollen lips that are peony pink, then spits on my dick.

Just like that, I spill out into my hand. My orgasm seemingly lasts forever, making my muscles quiver and leaving my body tingly and hot.

I rush to the bathroom, despite feeling kind of lightheaded, to wash up. As I clean up in the sink, I avoid my reflection in the mirror. I feel ashamed and dirty, even though I know I shouldn’t. There’s nothing wrong with guys liking other guys or finding them attractive.

But this…thisis a new one for me.

My heart races in my chest as I place my elbows on the bathroom counter and lean forward breathlessly. The thing is, I’ve always loved women. I love their curves, the way they smell—long hair and delicate features.

Ren is delicate, too,I think.

My heartbeat picks up and my breaths become rapid, and I feel like I’m starting to spiral out of control. Spiraling isn’t like me, and I hate the way it makes me feel. I splash some cold water on my face and force myself back into the bedroom.

It doesn’t mean anything.

I’m not intoRen, of all people.

My phone rings as soon as I slump back down into the pillows, and I jump, the ringtone sounding louder than I know it is. When I see Zìa’s name, I straighten up and my body stiffens. I tried calling her last night, but she didn’t answer because of the time difference—something I’m not used to. But I wanted to call her and update her as soon as I got back to the hotel last night, no matter what the time was back home in Venice.

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